mistakes we knew we were making
by troubledpancakes
Summary: clarke just gets out of juvie after a stint for tagging and retaliating against a cop. abby says she has to get a job and her ged if she wants to stay in the house, and well, she has nowhere else to go. so she gets a job at the coffee shop she used to frequent when dad was still alive - where she ends up working with octavia blake, whose brother seems to always be around.
1. Chapter 1

Clarke walked toward the gate wearing the clothes that she went in with. She had been handed a manila folder with her iPhone, house keys and various credit cards and ID that had been her pocket they day they picked her up. She didn't get her backpack back.

Abby was leaning against the door of the family Toyota, arms crossed against her chest. As Clarke approached, she stood up straight to face her daughter.

"Hi, honey."

"Hi, mom," she answered curtly.

Clarke was detached as her mother pulled her into a hug, her arms remaining by her side. The last eleven months had been hell, and her mom hadn't come to visit her once.

As they drove home, Clarke stared out the window, watching the world pass by as she made it back to the house she used to call home- before everything had happened. The cool glass fogged up from the heat radiating from her skin, her body adjusting to life outside again.

Sure they'd had time outside, but Clarke learned very quickly that you don't enjoy things the way they are meant to be enjoyed when you're in Juvenile Detention. Everything washes into the same color- the uniforms, the cafeteria food, the walls- the monotony alone could drive you mad.

The first few weeks went by with very few words spoken between them. Too much hurt, guilt, blame, and anger still hung between them. Dad's accident wasn't really anybodies fault, but Clarke didn't see it that way. She needed someone to blame, something to hold on to, otherwise the pain was too much. She told herself her mom had had distracted him- they had been arguing about the same damn problem for weeks. They both worked at the same company, and dad had discovered something serious, something that the workforce needed to know. Mom didn't see it that way; she said that they were better off not knowing, that they could solve it. They couldn't.

It all blew up one night. They had been driving. Mom was livid. Dad was driving. It was raining. Nobody could have seen the deer dart out into the road.

It wasn't anybodies fault. It was the wrong night. The wrong place. All wrong. It was all wrong.

Clarke couldn't see it that way. She was stubborn. She was too much like her mother. She hated that.

After it happened, she'd lashed out in any way she could. She wanted her mom to see how angry she was. She wanted her mom to see she couldn't control everything. She wanted her mom see how much it hurt Clarke to lose dad. Dad was her biggest fan. Dad had encouraged her to join the art club. Dad had pushed her to take her classes more seriously. Mom never paid that close of attention. Mom had so much going on in her own world.

She had stopped coming home most nights, spending them out with people who were confused and angry and bitter. Just like her. Her art became destructive, angry, raw. How she felt on the inside wedged it's way into her painting. She painted anywhere she felt like it- she wanted other people to experience it too.

She had gotten caught tagging the wall behind the building her mom worked at. Her backpack had been full of spray paint, and she didn't run fast enough. The cop had pulled her off the fence. She fought back. She was stubborn. She was too much like her mother. She hated that.

Elbowing the cop in the gut probably didn't help either. She sat in the back of that cop car, hands covered in paint, eyes brimming with tears that she refused to let spill out, jaw clenched tightly as they read her her rights.

But that was a year ago. Still shy of eighteen, she was released back into her mother's custody. Her mom wanted to act like nothing happened. But Clarke missed Jake, she missed her dad. She missed his stupid dad jokes, and she missed the way he'd stoop down over her shoulder while she sketched, asking a million questions about the scene she was working on. She missed the way he smelled like peppermint and fresh towels; nobody else smelled like he did.

Abby had let Clarke move back in under a few conditions: she had to get a job and she had to finish her high school degree. The whole staying-out-of-trouble was a given, considering where she had just gotten out of. Three weeks after Clarke had returned, she still hadn't found a job.

They stood in a face-off in the kitchen. "You either get a job, or you get out. Clarke, I love you. But things have gone on like this for too long."

Clarke stood there in silence, fuming, her nose flared in response. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Two days, Clarke. You have two days."

Clarke had turned on her heels, slamming the front door on her way out. She hadn't gotten her license back, so she just started walking. It was a small town, the main strip wasn't too far from where they lived. Not much had changed in the last eleven months. It was amazing how much a person can change so much, when so little around them had the slightest wave of disruption sending them careening into chaos.

She walked past the old coffee shop she used to go to on Saturday mornings when Mom and Dad worked early. She always thought Grounders was an odd name for a shop, but the shop itself was eclectic. The inside felt like a forest, with trees and potted plants lining the walls and hanging from the ceilings. It was a place to escape.

She had to do a double-take when she noticed a small sign in the corner of the window that said _Help Wanted_. She twitched her mouth. It was a job right?

Door jangling as she pushed her way inside, the crisp smell of freshly brewed java hit her right in the face.

"Clarke? Clarke Griffin?" An ornately braided girl with multiple face piercings and thick-rimmed glasses stood behind the counter with a shocked grin on her face.

"Hey, Harper." Clarke stiffened, she knew people had heard about what happened.

Harper finished helping the customer, excusing herself from the counter. She took off her messy apron, throwing it on the nearest chair and wrapped herself around Clarke.

"It's good to have you back." They stood there for a moment, Clarke finally letting the tension dissolve. She had always liked Harper. Harper was easy-going.

Clarke managed a small smile when she pulled away from the embrace. "I hear you're looking for some help?"

Harper's face lit up, "Oh my god, yes. Roma up and quit two weeks ago, leaving just me and a new girl to run this place. It's been a mess." She tipped her head back to the counter were a petite girl with olive skin and dark eyes fumbled around with the coffee machine trying to perfect the order the gentleman in line had just given her. "She's… getting there."

"Mom said I had to get a job and finish my degree, otherwise I'm out of the house," she explained, shrugging her shoulders. "Terms and conditions."

Harper smirked, "Nobody reads those anyways. Can you start tomorrow, 6 AM?"

"Absolutely," Clarke said with mild enthusiasm. A part of her was _actually_ excited.

She gave Clarke's arm one last squeeze before retreating back to the counter in an attempt to salvage what was left of the man's order. The olive-skinned girl sighing in defeat. Clarke smiled as she made her way to the door. Not quite watching where she was going, she nearly slammed into a rather broad person making his way inside.

She startled, struggling to maintain her balance. "Oh my god."

"Watch where you're going, princess," he stammered distractedly, barely stopping to look at her as they danced around each other.

Clarke narrowed her gaze at him. "Princess?"

He had deep brown eyes and his nose was spattered with freckles- and his shirt was maybe a little too tight for him. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged at her before pivoting back towards the counter.

"Hey, O, the usual please." He was smiling at the girl behind the counter, who was beaming back at him. She remained frozen at the entrance of the coffee shop before shaking her head and beginning her trek home.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear followers- due to the fact that I much prefer the AO3 format to the format, I will no longer be posting my stories here. For a while I was doing both, it's too much of a hassle. If you wish to continue to follow my stories Baggage Claim and/or Mistakes We Knew We Were Making, you can find me on AO3 - where I will continue to write and update stories. Sorry for any inconvenience, I will keep Home is Where the Heart Is up, since it's completed, but the other stories will be removed so not to attract people to an abandoned posting.

I hope you will follow me over to AO3 - /users/troubledpancakes/works, or on tumblr - - I appreciate all your wonderful feedback/follows/reviews/etc - they help me get better.

xoxo, katelyn


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